English (machine translation)
I spent seven weeks in Boyle,
think lying on my bed, not asleep but awake,
Hoping you every half that would give the priest a secret you,
Oh, you were my attraction, that I missed you my reputation.
Took my family to Ballinrobe taking my coffin being,
is joined the rest of them that Woods Youghal using my chróchair due limbs,
hope the King of Glory I all are false,
is that myself and my Sweetheart thousand while drinking together.
As a white flower in the garden is my love-in early summer,
Or faoileáiníní are white swimming on Lough Erne,
Or like a ship over the seawater would seem to go around,
and as is my love coming at ramhailtí in my mind.
Not pleasant for cabin goes my love drinking it,
is not pleasant for the path sets a shoe there,
not pleasant for a nice young girl who receives a marriage is,
Star of the morning is information, the evening lights tree.
Is not been long or that of obtaining me his letter word,
is not been long or that of obtaining me with the opening to read it,
Did not need long until I see the priest in his shirt.
Yellow gold in our pockets, we're married together.
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